


Catatonic

by SapphireBlueJiyuu



Series: The Cornetto Trilogy [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5358410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBlueJiyuu/pseuds/SapphireBlueJiyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the height of an outbreak, Grant is caught red handed at a certain someone's laboratory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catatonic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jdphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/gifts).



> This as a fill for @ilosttrackofthings over on Tumblr! I hope you enjoy this, JD my dearest. A very special thanks goes out to @shineyma for looking things over for me last night! All remaining typos and inconsistencies are my own. 
> 
> This fic is actually going to be a part of [ the cornetto trilogy ] which I will be writing... and hopefully finishing. xD I love to start projects but so rarely complete them... so here's hoping that I will with this one. Any how, I hope you like it and leave me a comment down below if you fancy a virtual hug fro me! :D Enjoy~

"Are you crazy? You call that a swing?"

The woman the rhetorical question was directed to was in the process of attacking Grant once more with the fire extinguisher. 

Instead of being angry or offended though, Grant merely rolled his eyes and halted her attack with one hand. “If I was a Renegade, you would be undead chow right now,” He grabbed the woman’s weapon of choice, pointedly saying, “Pun intended.” 

“What-?” 

“See you should be holding it up like a baseball bat - or I guess, in your case, a  _cricket bat_? - and then swing it with your  _entire_ upper body, twisting at the waist, so you don’t throw out your back.”

The woman in question stood flabbergasted at the man dressed in all black from head to toe - save for that stupid Henley - wearing Stan’s lab coat as a poor excuse for a disguise. 

He dangled the extinguisher between his fingers and held it out to her expectantly, “Go ahead; you try.”

“What the  _hell_ are you doing here?”

Grant rolled his eyes and tried to play it off as though her head busting technique was far more important than what he was doing pocketing her samples of anti-viral serum. 

“Never mind what I’m doing-” He tried.

“ _Never mind what you’re doing_? Aside from the fact that you’ve just broken into a highly secured secret laboratory and is in the process of stealing my anti-viral serum, not to mention my assistant’s labcoat... what did you do to my assistant, Ward?” Jemma was glaring her best “I am so cross with you, I am going to shoot you with my laser beams of death” glare but Grant was unfazed. In fact, he smiled rather fondly at her.

“Who Stan? Ah, he’s fine. He’s probably in his sad bunk, being sad with his sad menagerie of cats. Or eating his sad menagerie of cats-”

“You killed him, didn’t you?” Jemma posed the question more like a statement than an inquiry. 

Grant returned her accusation with a look of offense. 

He also felt the need to  _state_ his reaction. “I take offense to that accusation-”

“Didn’t you?” she probed, making it a point to force him to at least admit to his crimes if he isn’t going to be remorseful about them. 

Grant, figuring that Jemma will not be humoring him, lowers the fire extinguisher to the cold cemented floors, his eyes noting how thin she looks as they drag back up her pale form. She had always been tiny but not so much so that her well-worn lab coat looks to be swallowing her whole. 

“I needed his key card to get into the facility.” He replies dismissively. “Besides, you’re not giving Stan enough credit. He could very well have survived outside of the lab.”

Jemma’s eye widened in horror. “There is a swarm of  _your_ undead rogue agents out there!”

This time, Grant did feel offended. “My un- those things are not  _my_ soldiers-  _my_ men are professionals.”

Jemma threw her hands into the air in frustration, “Yours, Hydra’s, whatever! It’s all the same anyway! Trying to fix your mistakes with  _MY_ anti-viral serum isn’t going to grant you any pardons for all the crimes and all the deaths because of your grand plan! The moment your evil scheme to raise an army of undead came to fruition, you doomed us all!”

Grant stepped forward, his eyes darting around the seemingly empty laboratory. “Keep your voice down-”

“ _WHY_?” Jemma shouted mockingly. “Are you afraid someone will hear and your crimes will be made public? Sorry to break it to you but it’s a bit late for that-”

“Shh!” Grant brought his hand to cover her mouth, which only resulted in Jemma trying to bite the hand that had stopped her speech. 

She continued to glare at him but his eyes glitter with unsavory thoughts as a sharp smirk stretched across his face. “Now’s not the time for foreplay, Jem,” he purred at her before he looked up towards the opaque windows that line the wall where the sliding doors were on the other side of the room, “I think we have company.”

Jemma could feel her blood run cold at the thought of even one Renegade finding a way into the lab, especially since Grant removed his hand in favor of pulling out his concealed weapon. 

“You lead them in!” she hissed, scurrying back against the wall, trying to put as much distance as she could from herself and him.

Grant was in no mood for her accusations and instead started looking around for anything he could take with him. “We need to leave now. Grab as many of the serum vials as you can-”

Jemma rolled her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest in defiance. “So you could steal them off of me the moment we’re in peril and leave me to die in the woods?”

He swung her a look over his shoulder. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

A moment later when he finished scavenging for first aide kits and anything else that could be used as a weapon, he shrugged off Stan’s lab coat and turned it into a makeshift sack. Upon securely tying it off, Grant noticed that Jemma still hadn’t budged from her silent protest and sighed in aggravation. “You know what? Fine. We both know that I’m not giving you the vials that are in my pocket so if you want to leave behind all that work and possibly loose a comrade or a friend to a Renegade bite, be my guest.”

Even though she put up a good fight to conceal her unsettling thoughts, Jemma’s internal struggle became apparent on her face. She thought of Skye and Fitz and Coulson and May and the friends she made along the way like Trip and Hunter and Bobbi and even Mack. He didn’t deserve an inevitable bullet in the head because of her own misgivings.  

He knew he won the moment she reluctantly pushed off the wall and began filling a travel case with the vials of the serum that was left. She turned away from the cold lab table and saw his victorious grin. “Go to hell.”

“In due time, Jem-”

“Don’t ever call me that, you wanker!” she spat leading him out the trap door which slid open into the wall of the storage room.

Darkness stretched out in both directions but their moment of relief was brief as they both froze at the sound of the pressurized glass doors hiss open and in lumbers a swarm of Renegade soldiers, baring the Hydra logo on their tattered uniforms. 

“Run!” Grant called out.

They plunged into the darkness for what seemed like ages but was soon met with light bulbs that were lit ever 10 feet or so. Onward towards an unforeseen fate, not knowing if the tunnel that ran along the walls would lead them to certain death or a dead end (or both). 

The light that illuminates the narrow passageway was weak and Jemma had to squint to see if she would trip over anything but all that was left were spiderwebs and a single Cornetto ice cream top wrapper. As they made their way towards the east side of the laboratory which would lead out into the maze of industrial buildings, abandoned since the outbreak. 

Behind her, Grant walked backwards so not to give the undead his back, his gun trained on the way they had come from. When he noticed she had slowed down, he figured she was tired from all the running but when he turned around, he saw that they had arrived at a door on the right side of the wall. 

“Wait...” Grant whispered, his hand covered hers as it hovered over the door handle. “Let me check if the coast is clear.” She froze for a moment, her eyes met his, before she snatched back her hand and stuffed it into her lab coat.

Grant taking her lack of protest as a sign to move forward, he handed her the makeshift sack of supplies and grabbed hold of the handle. He made sure his safety was off and gave her one reassuring nod before he eased the door open. The heavy door whined loudly from lack of use. 

The moment there was a crack the size of a fist, three grimmy, rotting hands and arms made a grab for him. 

Not willing to waste precious ammo on non-head shots, Grant cursed profusely as he tried to close the door back, wishing he had grabbed his machete instead of his gun. “Get back!”

Jemma had had enough of being told what to do and instead rammed her shoulder into the door which stunned the zombies just long enough for Grant to close the door on their rooting fingers.

They both breathed heavily and tried not to think about the fact that they might be trapped. Instead, Grant looked over to Jemma with gratitude.  “Thanks.”

“You’re still a King Idiot.” 

He chuckles dryly. “I’ll take it.” he murmured before something in his jacket vibrated. He reached in and pulled out his phone, “Did you land yet?”

“Yes, sir. We’re on the roof.” came the voice from the other end of the line. 

“Good. Use the computer to access blueprints of the building.” Grant ordered.

“Already done, sir. We’ve pinged your location and there should be a roof hatch about 10 feet into the room just to the right of you if you’re facing the end of the corridor.” 

Grant and Jemma looked at each other. 

“Wait,” Jemma squeaked weakly. “he doesn’t mean... the room that is infested with zombies, does he? 

There was silence on everyone's parts and Jemma began to laugh... hysterically. “Great! Our only way out is to fight through God knows how many of those undead soldiers behind this door, then find a way to climb up, then find a way to open the hatch and then climb out of it!”

Jemma’s reiteration of their predicament is halted by strong hands that fall heavily onto her shoulders. “Jemma - do you trust me?” Grant looked at her in all seriousness, “Not... like the normal way people trust each other... but do you trust that I will keep you alive?”

The biochemist stood frozen in fear and despair and anger and frustration that once again, she was at the mercy of Grant Ward. And yet, despite it all, “safety” and “Ward” had always been synonymous in her mind - it was plain as day that she carried no doubts that he would keep his word. Through her glare, she nodded solemnly once and felt her stomach turn as she watched his eyes soften, like he actually cares. 

He put the phone back to his ear. “Markham, blow the hatch from the roof, then gun down as many Renegades as you can. Send a rope down when the room is clear.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Grant hung up the phone and turned to Jemma. “Okay, I’m going to wait for the signal. I’ll enter the room first, you stay behind me.”

Bringing his gun up into a ready position, Grant listened for noise from the room next to them. A moment later, the entire room shook as the sound of thick block of cement landed on the other side of the door with a rumble.

Suddenly, he felt Jemma’s cold fingers wrap around his elbow. “Uh... Grant?”

“Not now, Jemma, I’m trying to focus.” Grant insisted even though he had a strange feeling they were being watched. 

“Uhm... I think Stan is going to be joining us.”

That made the hairs on his neck rise. 

As slowly as he could, he turned his head and saw a frail looking man standing just in the shadow of two incandescent light bulbs.

“Well, that doesn’t look like Fat Stan at all.” Grant mutters.

Jemma gives him an incredulous look. “What made you think that he was  _fat_?”

“I didn’t have much to go on but his oversize lab coat.” he said dryly. 

“I’m sorry we’re not a multi-billion dollar evil clandestine organization who can manufacture custom fit lab coats!” 

“But you were able to have your lab coats stitched with everyone’s names on them?” Grant groused.

“I hand stitched each of them myself!” Jemma hissed back at him.

That got Grant to look over to her (and tap down the strange feeling of jealously that was bubbling hot in his gut). “Wow,” his words dripping with sarcasm, “really holding a candle for ol’ Stan, weren’t you?”

“It was for morale!” She lashed back before she turned back to the man in question. “Stan? You alright, there?”

“Ughhh...” came the weak reply. 

Jemma’s eyebrows furrowed in worry. “Oh, are you hurt? Here let me take a look at it in the light-” She stepped forward only to be pushed behind Grant who hand his gun trained on her lab assistant. 

“Really? You’re going to kill him  _in front_  of me-?”

“He’s not alive, Jem.” Grant said gravely. 

Stan shuffled his awkward legs into the light and Jemma gasped in horror at the look of decay and disfigurement marred the assistant’s youthful face, which drooped unnaturally as he moaned once more, arm stretched out towards the pair. “Oh...  _Stan_.”

“Close your eyes, Jemma.” Grant whispered over the vibrating that was came from the inside of his jacket. 

Their pathway to the jump-jet was cleared. 

Jemma shielded her eyes in his shoulder blade and the moment she heard Stan’s distorted voice call her name, the gunshot rang out into the corridor. 

Then, the shuffling multiplied. 

The undead broke through the doors that lined the passageway like roaches and clamored over each other towards them like rabid dogs. 

“Go!” Grant shouted as he emptied the clip into swarm. 

Jemma pushed the door open and ran into the room towards the rope that hung from the hole of the roof. She refused to look at the bodies that litter the floor... or that, in the cold shadows of the room, they almost look like they are just sleeping and that one wrong step would lead her to waking the dead once more. 

She leaped towards the tall figure in tac gear that had his hand extended to her and turned just in time to see a Renegade soldier clamp down on Grant’s shoulder. Her scream was muffled by the sound of his gun going off, a bullet tunneling a hole straight through the zombie’s head.

He quickly wrapped his hand on the rope and shouted for them to pull them up. The jump jet shot into the air with Jemma, the agent, and Grant clinging onto the ropes as the moans echoed from the darkness below.

 

* * *

 

Jemma placed the gauze over the injection site and tried to monitor him as best as she could with the tiny first aide kit that they were able to bring with them from the lab. It was suppose to take roughly 45 minutes for them to return to the Hydra base so she had immediately ordered Grant to take his shirt off. Markham, Grant’s right hand man (who was also the agent that held Jemma during the air lift), pointedly took his leave at that moment, leaving Jemma to tend to his wounds.

“Your vitals seem to be normal but the only way to know for sure is to get your blood samples to a lab as soon as possible.” Jemma’s stomach rolled as the jet began to rumble when it hit some turbulence. She nightmares may have manifested into more pressing fears, but one doesn’t easily forget the feeling of falling 30,000 feet from a plane. She steeled herself, taking deep, breaths before she willed herself to continue with her prognosis. “Periodic monitoring and frequent check-ups will be the most accurate way to determine whether or not the anti-viral serum is actually taking hold. Some side effects following the injection might include flu-like symptoms, . But if you are feeling nauseous or if you get a pounding headache that just won’t ease up, just let me know immediately.”

Jemma then took her time cleaning the bite wound and found herself oddly grateful that the tac gear he had on was so thick, the bite only broke the surface of the skin superficially. With any luck, Ward will be back on his feet, carrying out his dastardly plans against the good people of SHIELD in no time at all. 

She looked over to see some zip ties that were poking out from the box under one of the seats and halfheartedly wondered if he would object to being tied to his bunk for some mandatory bed rest. 

Jemma’s apparent blush became undeniable very quickly. “You’re looking a bit flushed, Simmons. Sure one of them didn’t get to you?” Ward quipped, the drug making his tongue more loose than he would ever have been without the influence.

“I’m sure,” Jemma replied immediately, “It’s probably just the heat. There, all finished. I would probably burn your shirt when you get a chance. Don’t want you going off and infecting any of your men.”

The shirt he’d have no qualms parting with but Grant remorsefully looked over at his favorite jacket and sighed at the bloody tear in the shoulder. She worries for a second that he might start crying over a bloody jacket.

“Thank you.” 

Jemma froze and turned to him in shock. 

He lifted an eyebrow in response and repeated himself, “Thank you... for giving me an the serum. And stitching me up. And not putting a bullet in my head.”

Jemma scoffed. “Don't push it. I haven't completely decided whether or not to put that bullet in your head yet." She took her gloves off and refused to meet his eyes that were boring into her as she cleaned up the area she used. "Besides, I believe that makes us even.”

Grant hissed causing Jemma to look up in distress only to find his wearing his signature smirk, “Technically, I saved your life 6 times and you did try to kill me 1 time and I tried to save you that one time that ended up kinda in a disaster but that was just poor planning on my part.”

Jemma rolled her eyes and couldn’t help but throw her official Hydra water bottle at his head. He almost didn't catch it but he was smiling in that woozy way only super powerful drugs can induce in the feared and vile Grant Ward. “Argh! You are such an  _ass_!”


End file.
